


Bitter Candy

by Anonymous



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Bad Guys Made Them Do It, F/F, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Object Penetration, Rape/Non-con Elements, Restraints, Unwilling Arousal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 20:38:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17008797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Sigrun and Tuuri have been captured by bandits for entertainment.





	Bitter Candy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tentaclekitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tentaclekitten/gifts).



It'd been hours since they'd locked Tuuri and Sigrun in, and the little light filtering through the barred, dirt-blind window had turned reddish with sunset when one of the kidnappers returned. He was carrying a lantern that swayed in his hand and deepened the shadows in what probably had been some sort of home office once upon a time. 

The man - from the floor he seemed as tall as Mikkel, but skinnier by far, and with an unpleasant glint in his eye - made Tuuri's heart pound, and not in a good way.

"So, sweetheart - time I said hello!" 

The tone, absurdly cheerful and anticipatory, made her whimper. Tuuri squirmed under the man's leering eye, and tried in vain to push herself into a sitting position. Her hurt head answered by throbbing so badly she saw flashes of light, and having her hands tied behind her back didn't help make her any calmer.

It seemed best to stop struggling and screw her eyes shut - maybe he'd think she'd fallen unconscious again, or maybe he would go away, maybe the first rule would work on any monster, including humans - but even then she was aware of the steps coming toward her across the floorboards, and when he stopped by her and knelt by her head, she couldn't help a squeak of fear. 

So much for that. When the man started laughing, she opened her eyes. 

"Scared now, are we?" he sneered, bringing their faces so close together that Tuuri could see his yellow teeth between white lips and smell breath that probably hadn't known toothpaste in a decade. And she knew that just toying with her to scare her wouldn't be all, it was only a matter of time. Tuuri bit back both tears and disgust, pressing her cheek against the wooden floor. 

_Ohgodsohgodsohgods… Sigrun, Lalli, anyone…?_

No chance. Sigrun, after the beating she'd taken when the bandits attacked them, had passed out and not woken since - and more, she was tied to a chair in the back of the room, matted hair over her face, head sunk forward onto her chest. Lalli, Emil, Mikkel, even Reynir - there was no trace of them. She knew for a fact that these men had only taken her and Sigrun - and she wasn't dumb. It was easy enough to guess what they had in mind, just taking the women. 

It was just that it had taken a turn for the horrifically real just now. 

Waiting for Sigrun to come around, and composing a report for the Nordic Council to come and smoke these people out had kept her calm before. Everyone knew there were outcasts - disgraced military, criminals, perverts, people who weren't considered worthy of prison space and resources, living in whatever out-of-the-way pockets of the Silent World they'd managed to reclaim on their own. Sometimes they came raiding settlements on the Finnish lakes by spying out the lay of the land and then getting small trolls or beasts inside non-immune communities unnoticed… and then having a wealth of resources for the picking a short time later. She was sure they had to exist in Sweden and Norway, too - she hadn't expected any of them in Denmark, but supposed it was easy to ship them from Bornholm to the mainland and consider them gotten well rid of, whether or not trolls ate them. 

"I'm…" Tuuri managed, working frantically to keep her gag reflex down even when the man had pulled back and knelt on the floor to squint at her from his rat face. "It's no use, you aren't going… I'm not immune," Tuuri managed, finally pushing herself up. Her head thanked her with more pain and another flash of bright light in front of her eyes. "But I'm a skald! And a mechanic. If you untie me I could… if you have cars or anything, I could fix them." 

"That's cute." The man laughed and pawed at her hair as if to pull her closer, and Tuuri tried to remember what his companions had called him on the march back from the tank, while he kept talking at Tuuri and ruffling through her hair. "Why not both? You'll still be fun to fu-"

"Morten! Morten, right?" Tuuri managed to remember before he finished his sentence. "I… I… please don't?" She looked around the room frantically, and her eyes lit on Sigrun in her chair. 

Sigrun's eyes were open - unfocused, but she was conscious, already twisting her hands behind her against her bonds. Tuuri's heart leapt.

She must have looked a second too long, or perhaps her expression had given her away, because Morten looked Sigrun's way as well, and his mouth twisted into a snarl, teeth bared, and the sweet, mocking voice he'd used with Tuuri dropped to a growl. "Look who's awake, it's the bitch who stabbed Ingvar! I should get that knife of yours and ram it up your ass blade first!" 

"No!" Tuuri squeaked, and bit down hard on her lips when Morten's head swivelled back around to her, and he gripped her hair, pulling Tuuri to her knees. She could feel the roots give, and Morten came away with her hair clinging to his fingers. Tears shot into Tuuri's eyes, from the sting of pain as much as fear. 

"Shut up!" He shoved her back down, and all Tuuri could do was to lie still. Her shoulder throbbed from the impact into the floor; she lay with her back to Sigrun now. Morten came for her, one muddy boot raised as if to stomp down on her. "Are you telling me what to do? Because I'm _not_ taking orders from a fat little bunny that…" 

"You're going to leave her the Hel alone!" 

Tuuri breathed out when Morten's attention went back to Sigrun, one shuddering breath and then another before she became dimly aware of a grunt of pain. When she'd managed to roll onto her side to be able to see Sigrun, Morten blocked her view, but the noise of fists striking a body needed no imagination. 

"... and I'll make good on that promise!" he spat, abruptly turning to march from the room. He slammed the door shut so hard it rattled in the decaying hinges. Sigrun hung in her chair, hunched over forward. A trickle of blood ran down her chin from her split lower lip. She was shaking with the effort of drawing steady breaths; her eyes were watering. 

"Sigrun?" Tuuri whispered frantically. "Sigrun, I'm sorry." 

Behind the frazzled red hair falling over Sigrun's face, Tuuri could see her try to smile.

"Better you than me, Fuzzy. I can take it, trolls got me worse a thousand times. You keep your mouth shut and let him get at me, and next time you can run, you run. Got it?" 

"O-okay," Tuuri said, even though everything in her hated her for agreeing. "D-do you have a plan?" 

"Yeah. You run and get the cavalry, and then you flatten these bastards and get me out." Sigrun might have been laughing, if the sound hadn't come out in another wheeze of pain. 

"Just promise me you'll still be alive when I get back?" 

Sigrun turned her head aside, just a fraction. "Can't do that, Tuuri, sorry," she said. _Tuuri_. That meant she was serious - it was almost always nicknames otherwise. "But it's the next-best chance we got… I'll try and keep them going a bit. If you don't run, we'll both end up dead. Or worse."

"B-but…" a lump in Tuuri's throat choked the words off. "I'm… you're… y-you're the Captain." It wasn't what she meant to say at all. If Sigrun was going to die, Tuuri at least wanted her to know how she felt. 

Tuuri twisted around and squirmed, slowly, into a precarious upright position on her knees, then pushed to her feet with care. Her head swam. A string of shaky, totterings steps took her to Sigrun, and at her side Tuuri dropped back to her knees onto the wooden floor, resting her forehead against Sigrun's knees, trying to keep the tears in. The rope dug into her wrists and was starting to hurt her; her left hand was going numb and her shoulders had lost all feeling. There was no way she'd make it. She didn't even have her mask - she'd taken that off for lunch before the attack happened. If any troll or beast was going to notice her, she was done for. She barely even knew the way back through the unfamiliar city to the tank.

Outside, the sunlight had gone; darkness settled into the room.

"Captain goes down with the ship, if there's no other way." Sigrun muttered. It sounded soft, weirdly so for her. Tuuri wondered what had given her away; perhaps she didn't manage her own shaking at bay. The fabric of Sigrun's uniform rustled softly when Sigrun bent over further, as far as her restraints allowed. Far enough for her lips to touch Tuuri's hair, far enough even to lean her forehead against Tuuri's hair. Sigrun's scent enveloped her, and the faint tang of blood. 

Tuuri lifted her head. Afterwards she couldn't say what had given her the courage, but she kissed at the tear tracks that were already drying on Sigrun's cheeks, traces of salt over a bruised cheekbone to her jaw. Sigrun held very still, until Tuuri pressed her lips down on Sigrun's mouth and her breath caught to feel Sigrun's lips opening under hers. She was still luxuriating in the sensation when the door opened with a rattle, and Tuuri reeled away with so much force that she lost balance. With no hand free to break her fall, she slammed into the ground. 

Not soon enough. 

Morten whistled long and low through his teeth as his eyes went between them, even as Sigrun started spitting curses at him. Behind him the door gaped wide open.

Tuuri hadn't managed to clamber back to her feet when Morten reached her, pulled her to her feet entirely and pressed the scrawny length of his body against her back. Her heart still beat like she'd already run for it, her head swam with the taste of Sigrun's lips and the faint tang of iron, but it was Morten's breath that hit Tuuri in the face. His laughter rasped against her ear. 

Maybe she could just push him away and - 

Tuuri realized with a hitch of her breath that Sigrun had stopped cussing out Morten, and at the same time registered that a blade pressed blunt-side against her throat; the edge nicked the underside of her chin. _Oh. Oh right. Sigrun's knife. He'd threatened…_ Tuuri didn't let herself finish the thought. It was Sigrun's knife. He was going to kill her with Sigrun's knife. 

It probably was the best way out of it, if not for the look of abject, naked fury and terror on Sigrun's face. 

Tuuri swallowed hard and tried to hold in her tears, but there already was something hot and wet trickling down her face, joined by more somethings until her view of Sigrun blurred. Sigrun twisted in her chair - Tuuri could still make out movement - and when she spoke again, there was a new firmness and determination in her voice, stretched thin over the emotions underneath, but there. Tuuri had only heard it once before - the night before the battle in Odense. And after, when she came rushing into the tank after Lalli's nick-of-time gunshot that'd kept the troll from hurting her.

"You - you do to me what you said you'd do. _Anything_ you said. Let her go, she's just a girl. She won't give you the game you want, you sick asshole. I'm military. I'll hold out until you get tired, bet your head on it!" 

"And get rid of half the fun?" Morten gestured between them with Sigrun's knife. "No, I think I'm gonna get my friends for you two lovebirds to give us a show before I kill you the way you killed my brother."

Tuuri had been listening to the exchange with disbelief. She'd managed to swallow the tears down, mostly, even if they left her throat tight and hurting, but that… she'd dreamt of Sigrun. Only - _not like this_. Never like this. But the most important thing - it'd give them what they needed the most. 

Time to plan an escape. 

"O-okay. I'll do it," Tuuri heard herself say, as if from far away. "Just don't… don't kill us. We'll make it good. You can keep us. For fun." 

"Mmmmaybe," Morten said. "No rush in bleeding your bitch this soon if we can get entertainment out of you two. The second you don't deliver?" The blade pressed against Tuuri's throat with more force; her airways spasmed as she tried to breathe. He smirked at Sigrun's latest noise of fury. "The second you don't deliver, we'll have ourselves some fun. There's… twenty of us, an everyone gets a turn on your redhead."

"Y-you'll have fun tonight!" Tuuri managed. "I'm sure!" 

"One way or the other," Morten snarled. 

Something scraped over Tuuri's wrists - the rope, she realized. Morten was untying her, then pushed her away with the rope coiled around his fist. Hot blood flowed painfully into Tuuri's hands, making them prickle as she tried to massage feeling back into her fingers. "You get comfortable there - clothes off, all of them for you. Pants off, shirt up for your lady friend, and she stays tied to the chair or this isn't happening at all. I don't trust her. Or you, for that matter." 

He gave Tuuri a push in Sigrun's direction, then Morten went to fetch the other men, locking the door behind him. He took the knife with him, and with it, the shreds of any plan Tuuri might have had. She walked over to Sigrun and, with clumsy fingers that had gone from too pale to a pink red as her blood flow resumed, brushed sweat-damp hair from her face. Sigrun closed her eyes, enough to make Tuuri's heart drop. Resignation didn't suit Sigrun. 

"If I untie you… this won't have to happen, right? I just thought… it's our best chance? Maybe we can get away later?" 

Sigrun gave her a look that was halfway between affection and incredulity. Sadness, maybe. "Maybe later. But not a chance I can fight them all with you here, Fuzzy-head. Me alone, sure I'd _try_ , but there's no way I'm getting myself killed leaving you alone with these people. You're gonna have to eat me out like I'm your favourite piece of candy."

Tuuri blushed furiously. "I didn't know what else to do! He was going to kill - he had your knife! I'm - !" The tears started again, but she managed to keep them down. "I'm sorry I kissed you!" 

"Kissed you back," Sigrun muttered. "That makes both of us idiots." 

In spite of all that had happened, Tuuri's next words slipped out before she could make up her mind to not say them aloud. "D-did you mean it? It wasn't just… _I_ meant it! The kissing." If nothing else, she thought - knowing whether or not Sigrun had feelings for her might make what was in store for them easier. It might make it feel less like they were forcing them, if both of them wanted it, but even that felt like a paper-thin hope that didn't last. 

It crumpled when Sigrun gave her an inscrutable look and then sighed, a heavy noise that sounded more like Mikkel than herself. "Let's talk about that if we get out of here. Where are you at with sex, ever got up close and naked with a woman before?" 

For a moment Tuuri couldn't help thinking of the many sauna baths she'd taken in Keuruu's communal sauna and fought down the urge to burst out laughing. "Y-yeah." A choked laugh escaped her in spite of everything. "And I had a couple of girlfriends." Even under Onni's nose on an army base, that was one thing she'd managed, even if it'd involved even more sneaking-around than usual. "Not much else to do in Keuruu, except for reading."

"Ew, reading," Sigrun said in a futile attempt at a joke that fell flat. "Okay, you're not a first-timer, you know what to do, I'll help you along. Look at me for a moment, Fuzzy." 

Already Tuuri could barely look at Sigrun. She might not, ever again, if they got out of this. 

"Tuuri," Sigrun says more insistently, in a voice that dropped an octave or two when Tuuri continued staring at the floorboards. "You need to do this, okay? I know - " and now Sigrun's own voice wavered, so slight that it was almost beyond hearing, but Tuuri caught it regardless, " - I know what they're asking, but I promise on the gods that I won't hold it against you. I don't _want_ to be angry at you over this."

"But you are," Tuuri replied miserably. "And I can't even - "

The rest of her words were lost in the crash of the door and an exuberant Morten marching back into the room with a group men following him with expectation plain on their faces. Some had been part of the raid, others completely unfamiliar, several of them had brought more lanterns and candles to ease the darkness from the room. Morten put a hand on the shoulder of a younger man carrying Sigrun's rifle, and shoved him to the front as they crowded around them. It might almost be comical if it weren't so terrible, Tuuri thought, inadvertently remembering some Skald meetings at the Keuruu office, cramming onto makeshift seating arrangements for mission planning or something like it. She missed home painfully, suddenly, and would even take Onni's lectures without complaining. Anything but this.

Sigrun hissed in frustration. "Everything hinges on you pulling yourself together," she said under her breath, once Tuuri managed to focus her attention again. "That's all that is." A beat passed, and some of the harshness vanished from her voice. "We'll have us a good time together after, if we make it out, to make up for this." 

The best thing was: Tuuri believed her. The worst thing was, after what Sigrun had said before: Tuuri knew she was lying. Even so, with the men there waiting and Morten fingering Sigrun's knife again, she got to work at undressing Sigrun, quickly and in a rush, pants off, her shirt pulled up enough to expose her, but not all the way off, then Tuuri's own uniform joined Sigrun's on the pile until she was shivering in the cold air and under the gazes of the men.

She tried to focus on Sigrun studying her instead, and sat on Sigrun's knee, acutely aware of the way she exposed herself. Sauna in Keuruu was what she knew - at least, involving so many people - but then, no one paid much attention to any other naked body. 

It was different here, and it took her a moment to work up the will to let them watch. Instead of covering herself, she slung an arm around Sigrun's shoulder and leaned in to kiss her, open-mouthed and sloppy, nipping at Sigrun's lower lip next. They wanted a show, and Tuuri was going to do what she could to get them out alive. Sigrun seemed to get her gist, deepening the kiss and moaning out loud. Tuuri could tell it was fake, some strained cadence in the noise, and she pressed her lips down to swallow the rest of the sound. 

Tuuri's eyes slipped closed. Before she realized, the kiss had become real again, and Tuuri almost pulled away. This wasn't real. It wasn't. The heat pooling low in her belly had no right to be there, or the thought that she wanted Sigrun's arms around her, Sigrun reciprocating more than just the kisses. She gave a parting nip to Sigrun's lower lip and got to work. 

Her breath had no right to be this harsh. Not Sigrun's. Not her own. The world had no right to narrow to just them, not when there was an entire room of men devouring them with their eyes, not just Sigrun, Tuuri, and that damnable chair that could be so good in any other circumstance… 

Sigrun was putting on a good show under Tuuri's hands and lips, exploring her throat and shoulders with the black turtleneck pulled aside, nipping and licking at the dips and hollows of her skin. Just a little of it was enough for Tuuri to believe it, too. It was easier, believing it, that Sigrun wanted her, too. 

She had no right to that either. 

There were traces of sweat on Sigrun's skin now. She arched off her chair with a loud gasp as Tuuri first touched her breasts, moving aside on Sigrun's lap to play with them in better view of the men. She wondered where Sigrun's directions were, the help she'd promised to give, apart from the directions her body offered. Finally, licking down the round of her breasts, playing with Sigrun's nipples until they pebbled, first with the shirt in place, then tugged away as she continued to explore, trying to focus on Sigrun in the flicker of light, not on the sounds in the room behind her yielded her a "Fuck, Fuzzy!"

Tuuri tried to force down the brief sense of triumph, the flare of heat, the impulse to shift on Sigrun's knee, her own legs spread… she'd not give them that much. Sigrun had pretended. She'd not do that to Sigrun. It didn't make her any better than their kidnappers. But Sigrun had nice breasts, round and pale and perfect, that Tuuri wanted to press her face between and tickle with her hair tuft, and there was a scar under Sigrun's left boob that Tuuri found intriguing, a slash as if from a long claw swipe. She fastened her mouth to it, only for Sigrun to jump and curse under her breath - another pretense? No. Tuuri could hear her exhale heavily, a breath that ruffled her hair and made the men laugh. 

Tuuri ducked her head; heat flooded her cheeks. Then she did it again, lips over the stretch of skin, soft with age. She wondered at the story behind it, when Sigrun had gotten that one. 

She'd remember this. Of course she would. If not every instance of this was going to stay burned into her brain, she'd be damned. But she'd remember _this_ , specifically, in case they ever made it out alive. In case Sigrun made good on her promise for them to make it right after, because that swear had not been unpleasant, she thought as she slid her mouth lower, avoiding the fresh bruises where Morten had beaten her. 

She slipped off Sigrun's lap, kneeling between Sigrun's open legs now. 

The thought, as she kissed a path over Sigrun's stomach and mapped out where her skin was the most sensitive, tightening with muscle underneath, sent a new surge of heat through Tuuri: When she looked up, it seemed for all the world that Sigrun was trying not to like it, stubbornly fixing her eyes on the men with a glare that should make ice catch fire. 

Tuuri couldn't blame her. Aware of the men watching her every move, she moved her legs closer together, but even that slight shift was enough to give her away. Their chuckling behind her that made her flush harder, the wet sound of something moving up and down, the stink of male arousal. 

"Fat little bunny is getting horny, look at that. Who knew that one had it in her?" 

"Hey," muttered Sigrun, glancing down at Tuuri with sharp eyes and tight lips. "Keep going, eyes on me. They're just taunting you to get their limp dicks moving."

Tuuri couldn't help a nervous laugh that made nothing better. She moved her mouth lower to a coil of silvery scar tissue over Sigrun's hip, to see if she reacted the same as before with the scar beneath her breast... Tuuri found that she wanted that noise again, wanted that reaction. Even if it was weird, a little heady, even, if she managed to forget the other presences in the room. But... no such luck. Sigrun sighed almost inaudibly at Tuuri's tentative touch of lips, and Tuuri avoided looking up. 

Best to move on. Lower. 

"Is it... can I? I mean..." 

"Yeah, go ahead. Use your fingers for a bit, show me if they're as clever as I imagined."

As she... had imagined? Sigrun had imagined her fingers? Tuuri's hand, which until then had been curled on Sigrun's knee, unfurled. Her fingers still felt a little stiff, perhaps she had clenched them harder than she had noticed. The fingernail marks in her palm throbbed. She nudged Sigrun's knees apart a bit more, angling herself so that the men could see less of Sigrun rather than more, stroked her fingers lightly over the red tangle of her pubes and tried to ignore the way Sigrun tensed, carding her fingers back up instead, hoping it looked like indulgence, exploration, deliberate teasing as part of the show - anything but nervousness. 

Until then, she had half hoped Sigrun might reveal some cunning plan, to somehow get loose in the nick of time, and let them to escape together. No such luck. They were really doing it, no way around it. 

In spite of it all - it must have all been show after all, a very convincing one - Sigrun was dry as anything when Tuuri slid a finger into her, and Tuuri could feel her trying not to wince. A glance up from the corner of her eye showed Sigrun's tight face, the way she breathed slowly out through an open mouth. Tuuri wanted it to stop; tears rose up choking in her throat as she moved her finger a little. Realistically she knew that it wasn't hurting Sigrun - not physically, at least.

She shouldn't be so crushingly disappointed that it hadn't been real. 

"Relax," she mouthed at Sigrun, and "I'm so sorry." 

Sigrun's eyes at least softened a little; her head fell forward in something of a nod, and Tuuri took it as permission. She stuck two fingers into her mouth to moisten and slick them and ease the way a little. 

She _wanted_ Sigrun to like what she did, at least as much as she possibly could in the circumstances. She wanted it to be okay. She wanted… this to stop. The situation to be a different one, where Sigrun was less silent and taciturn, and her restraints part of a game, not something that gave neither of them a choice and left Tuuri more confused and scared than ever.

In short order, to try and banish her thoughts, she trailed her fingers to Sigrun's clit, stroking the pad of her thumb over it a few times with gentle pressure. "That's how… that's what I like. For a beginning," she said when Sigrun shot her a look. Maybe if she gave away things about herself, it might be easier for Sigrun - not just easier to imagine, perhaps easier to enjoy, easier to fade out the room of men who were watching their every move outside the ring of light Tuuri and Sigrun performed in.

A few more words - "When I imagine it's you in the bunk with me, and you pin me down and start teasing me until I'm begging you to eat me out. Like… like a cat that got at the cream." Tuuri's cheeks heated, but finally she felt answering wetness under her fingers, and Sigrun gave a breathless, stifled laugh that burned itself into Tuuri's mind like a beacon. 

"That so, Fuzzy? _Nice!_ " 

A little more, and Sigrun's hips moved to meet Tuuri's strokes, the crooking, beckoning motion of her fingers, and her breath had turned into laboured gasps that Tuuri could feel under her lips as she trailed open-mouthed over Sigrun's torso, coming back again and again to the scars that riddled it. She wanted to ask about all of them, imagined herself and Sigrun in the dim of the tank's bunk room, letting her fingers explore while Sigrun told her stories about the gouge along the waistline all the way to Sigrun's lower back, or the white snarls of what Tuuri imagined were teeth-marks that raked from Sigrun's inner thigh to her knee. 

Sigrun's skin tasted like sweat and traces of soap, growing headier the further down she moved. "Is it okay if I… can I…?" Sigrun's pale cheeks were flushed in the warm light, and the tip of her nose red. It seemed, almost, that she was having trouble focusing, almost, but it wasn't Sigrun's hand coming down heavy and sticky on the back of her head, forcing Tuuri down so hard that she had no choice except to inhale a mouthful of Sigrun's smell and taste as she tried to protest, wet and warm dark against her face. 

The way Tuuri was kneeling, Sigrun's spread thighs pressed against her ears, almost muffling the rest of the world, and if this were Sigrun's hand - Tuuri's breath, as much as she could draw like this, hitched at the idea of the intimacy of that, how much she wanted that, how good it'd be. 

Almost. She could still hear enough of the raised voice.

"'Can I…?' You eat that bitch and give us a show now, or maybe you want us to take the lead?"

If they weren't Morten's hands grabbing her hair, twisting by the roots and yanking her down further and his voice, shrill and angry, "Eat her out, you little shit, or I'll do that and then some for you!" 

Tuuri froze, tried to breathe through the stiffness of fear, and gave a short nod. For all her guilt, she was doing this to spare Sigrun. No matter what she did, it couldn't be as bad as these guys getting their hands on her. Sigrun - she'd say… almost as if Sigrun were really talking, Tuuri could hear her voice instead of her kidnapper's yelling. 

_Just ignore the asshole. Piece of candy, right? I'm pretty sweet, people tell me. You'll like it too. And maybe I can return the favour once we get out of this hellhole. Come on, you don't wanna keep me waiting!_

Finally, Tuuri pushed back against the hand still holding her, as much as she dared, and anxiously waited for the pressure in her scalp to relax. It didn't, not even when Sigrun began to talk, for real this time, and Tuuri tried to gauge from the tone of her voice just how far she was gone.

".... and like Hel I'm gonna come if you shove your ugly mug at me. Let her get to it! You got me to get naked, I _wanna_ get off now!" 

Tuuri glimpsed up. She'd laugh if she weren't so terrified - Sigrun sounded the same old, almost. Morten was scowling, and backhanded her across the face with his free left, hard enough for Sigrun's head to snap sideways. An angry red print blossomed on her cheek almost at once. 

Sigrun spat at him. "You're ruining the mood!" 

Morten lifted his fist, not bothering to wipe the spittle from his face. This time, Tuuri thought, he'd break her nose or beat her up, or… she remembered the sword. 

"I'll do it!" she said loudly, hastily, stumbling over the words. Sigrun jumped. "I'll… fuck her. Just… please don't…?" 

'"Just please don't!" Morten imitated in an ugly falsetto and Tuuri's accented Swedish. "Last chance, little bunny!"

Tuuri put to work. Sigrun tensed against her, when Tuuri's lips and tongue moved over her outer and inner lips. Morten continued to hover behind her, Tuuri was all too aware of the jerky breath near her and how he was watching and stroking himself, and she ducked her head to not have to look at him, when she wasn't trying for eye-contact with Sigrun and found she couldn't hold it for long. Sigrun was still half-heartedly playing along, but there was none of the warming-up Tuuri had been getting ahead with so nicely fingering her, her body was rigid now, and even though Tuuri could feel some answering warmth to her half-hearted ministrations, it was worse than finding Sigrun so unimpressed before, somehow. 

As she closed her lips around Sigrun's clit, Sigrun jumped under her momentarily, but this'd become a far cry from any of the candy-eating she'd tried to joke about what seemed like a lifetime ago, and Tuuri wanted it to stop more than anything. All of this was miserable and terrible, and it was her fault, and that she was the one who felt the worst about it was ridiculous. 

Sigrun was the one on the receiving end of all the attention, but now that Morten had shaken Tuuri out of even the barest shreds of pretense and wanting, it was hard not to overhear the men talking.

"You hold her, if the little bitch can't give us anything proper, I have a better idea for the other one!" There were murmurs there that she didn't catch. The worst of it - Tuuri had too many ideas what that could mean - the men forcing themselves on Sigrun in so many ways. 

As Morten stepped forward Tuuri heard the familiar click of Sigrun's rifle being loaded, and the sight of it, cold steel, nudged against the back of her head. "You stay right there. Try anything funny, I'll blow your brains out." The young man she'd seen holding the gun earlier. He sounded far less sure of anything than Morten did, and Tuuri managed to breathe through the terror, momentarily.

Morten drew Sigrun's knife once again, holding it to Sigrun's narrow-eyed look. "You know what I'm up to, aren't you?" 

"I can guess." She was back to her usual self now, it seemed, no more show or pretense as Morten bent to slam the knife into the floor, so the blade stuck deep in a crack of the floorboards, almost invisible, and only the handle and pommel still protruded. Morten, with another hint at Tuuri's fate if either of them tried anything funny, loosed the knots that kept Sigrun tied to the chair and pulled her forward toward the knife. 

"Go on," he said with a nasty edge to his voice. "You said you wanted to get off!" 

Sigrun understood. She lowered herself slowly and with an agonized gasp. Tuuri watched how the hilt disappeared between Sigrun's spread legs, the gleam of moisture along the edges as she shifted back up, the grit of Sigrun's teeth as she fucked herself on the knife hilt. Tuuri only noticed that her own teeth had sunk into her lower lip when the taste of blood obliterated Sigrun's taste from her tongue. 

"Okay, now you're talking!" Morten seemed intrigued by the turn of events. His hand was at work in his pants without any shame, and as he moved toward Sigrun, Tuuri feared for the worst, but Sigrun only lifted her head, her bedraggled, sweat-damp hair fell from her face, and she started laughing. Tuuri could have kissed her. It wasn't any of the laughter she had ever heard from Sigrun before, it was the sound of a feral dog snarling in some wild glee. 

Teeth bared, Sigrun slammed her head forward. 

Morten fell like a puppet with cut strings and struck the floorboards with a hollow sound, and lay quiet, curled into himself like a dying insect, tearing over several of the burning candles. 

Tuuri was dimly aware of shouting in the back of the room, and by the time the situation resolved itself into chaos, Sigrun was on her feet. Tuuri briefly registered the way the rising firelight slid along her ribs, along the swell of muscle moving in her upper arm, and the fluid grace that came with the movements in spite of what she had just been forced to do. By the time her brain had sorted the impressions, Sigrun had yanked the knife free and was rushing the men and their weapons. Bone broke when she elbowed one in the face, another went down with the knife slashing across his chest. 

"Grab your clothes, time to dress later! You still owe me a good time!" Sigrun shouted at Tuuri. She did just as Sigrun had said, and then it was all running, bursting into the open, clear air and away into the shadows to escape.


End file.
